“Oh!” cried William, in his native tongue, addressing his white friends; “let La-u-na dwell with us!  She is as innocent as the lily by the brook, and as noble as a queen.  Father,” he continued, stepping forward and taking Roughgrove’s hand, “you won’t refuse my request!  And you, sister Mary, I know you will love her as dearly as you do me.  And you, my friend,” said he, turning to Glenn, “will soon hear her speak our own language, and she will cull many beautiful flowers for you that the white man never yet beheld.  Grant this,” added the youth, after pausing a few moments, while his friends hung their heads in silence, “and I will remain with you always; but if you refuse, I must fly to the forest again.”

“Stay!  Oh, brother, you shall not go!” cried Mary, and rushing forward, she threw her arms round his neck.  The Indian girl kissed her pale brow, and smiled joyfully, when the youth told her that Mary was his dear sister.

“He loves her, and her affection for him is imperishable!” said Glenn.

“And why may they not be happy together, if they dwell with us?” asked Roughgrove, pondering.

“There is no reason why they should not be.  Let us tell them to remain and be happy,” said Glenn.

When fully informed that she might abide with them and still love her Young Eagle, La-u-na was almost frantic with ecstasy.  She looked gratefully and fondly on her new friends, and pressed their hands in turn.  She seemed to be more especially fond of Mary, and repeatedly wound her smooth and soft arms affectionately about her waist and neck.

William led his Indian bride to the seat under the spreading green tree, and signified a desire to commune with her alone.  When seated together on the rude bench, the maiden’s hand clasped in William’s, Mary fondly kissed them both and withdrew in company with Roughgrove and Glenn.  Roughgrove prostrated himself in prayer when within the house.  Mary ran up to the top of the beetling cliff to cull flowers, and Glenn directed his steps down the valley towards the river, whither Joe had preceded him with the frog he had succeeded in capturing.

Glenn was met about midway by Joe, who was returning slowly, with peculiar marks of agitation on his face.  He had neither frog, rod, nor fish in his hand.

“I thought you were fishing,” remarked Glenn.

“So I am,” replied Joe; “and I’ve had the greatest luck you ever heard of.”

“Well, tell me your success.”

“I had a bite,” continued he, “in less than three minutes after I threw in my hook.  It was a wapper!  When he took hold I let him play about awhile with a slack line, to be certain and get it well fixed in his mouth.  But when I went to draw up, the monster made a splash or two, and then whizzed out into the middle of the river!”

“Where was the hook?” asked Glenn.

“In his mouth, to be sure,” replied Joe.

“And the line?”